The Izaak Walton Killam Children’s Hospital strategic plan included Saturday appointments — Jake had heard something about a commitment to reduce wait times and increase sensitivity to consumers. The strategic plan didn’t make it any easier to be sitting in a pediatric neurologist’s office on a Saturday morning.
“Thanks for seeing us today, Dr. Merrot,” Abby said as she took a seat.
Jake sat next to her, and they both looked across a wide desk at the gray-haired doctor. His round features and the reading glasses perched at the end of his nose gave him a slightly comical appearance, as if he were a caricature of the aging country doctor.
“Not at all,” Dr. Merrot said, his expression serious.
“So?” Abby asked. She wanted to get straight to business.
“And where is young master Wyatt today?”
“He’s at home with his sister,” Jake said. “We got a babysitter.”
Dr. Merrot nodded. “Fine, fine.”
“The tests?” Abby prompted. “What’d you find out?”
The doctor frowned. Jake felt as if he had a knife in his heart. He held his breath.
“Well, Wyatt’s going to need surgery,” Dr. Merrot said. “There’s no easy way to tell you. We’re going to need to do a little investigating.”
“Investigating what?” Abby asked. Her voice trembled, and Jake could hear the panic sneaking in. He put an arm across her shoulders.
“There’s no reason to think Wyatt isn’t going to pull through everything and be fine, so let’s stay positive,” Dr. Merrot said, and offered them a weak smile.
Jake knew the worse the news the more preparation there was. He wished the doctor would blurt it out.
“Wyatt has a tumor. We aren’t entirely sure about the size or the kind. It was difficult to find on the ct scan.”
“A tumor,” Abby whispered.
Jake gave her a little squeeze. Tumor was one of the words they didn’t want to hear. He bit his lip; he didn’t want to get emotional. He knew if he let Abby see him cry he would be useless to her.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean a whole lot just yet,” Dr. Merrot added quickly. “We need to take a biopsy and have a better look at its exact location.”
“What did you mean it was tricky to find?” Jake asked.
Dr. Merrot took a deep breath. “Well, not all tumors are encapsulated. Sometimes they branch out slightly and so aren’t as easy to detect. Wyatt’s tumor was spread thinly enough that it was difficult to find.”
“Will that make it more difficult to remove?” Abby asked quietly. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Dr. Merrot nodded. “There is that chance. With tumors that branch it is sometimes more difficult.”
“What’s the next step?” Jake asked. He wanted to keep the conversation moving forward so they could stay focused on action.
The doctor leaned his elbows on the desk. “We’d like to admit him as soon as possible. That will give us first crack at the next operating suite. We’re going to make Wyatt one of the hospital’s top priorities.”
In all likelihood, every doctor at the children’s hospital said this to every parent, but it still made Jake feel a little better. He wanted to think there was a team of doctors devoted to Wyatt, working around the clock to make him better.
“You mean today?” Abby asked. “Should we bring him down today?”
“Tomorrow would be fine,” Dr. Merrot said.
“How long will he be here?”
“I really can’t say. You should probably plan on at least all of next week. Possibly longer.”
The room was silent for a moment. The news was a weight that sank through Jake and kept pulling him further and further down. He was afraid to look at Abby. His eyes filled with tears as images of Wyatt played in his mind. Images of his son laughing and playing with his big sister. Images of him sitting on the couch playing video games.
“What are the risks?” Abby asked.
“There’s the normal risks associated with this type of surgery. Whenever you are dealing with the brain there are serious risks.”
“Brain damage? Death?” Abby asked. Panic was creeping into her voice. “Could he die?”
Dr. Merrot’s expression didn’t change. “Little Wyatt’s sick,” he said calmly. “We’ll need to do some surgery to help the guy get better. I’m afraid there aren’t any other options.”
Abby nodded, sniffed, and blew her nose.
“As you leave you can register Wyatt for his stay. That will make it quicker when you come tomorrow,” Dr. Merrot added. “The nursing station is just down the hall, and the nurses can help you. When you come tomorrow I hope to have a surgery time arranged. They’ll know at the desk.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Jake said. “Thanks for everything.” He stood and looked at his wife.
Abby also rose, and they left Dr. Merrot’s office.